Sylvia's in Hogwarts
by ShadowOfGrandeur
Summary: 16 years old Sylvia finally receives her Hogwarts' letter and gets straight in the thick of things. AU!


Hey, people, I've started a new fic! But as you can see, it's not based on LOTR, but on Harry Potter series. ;-)

SYLVIA'S IN HOGWARTS

I dedicate this to my Granny.

Summary: 16 years old Sylvia finally receives her Hogwarts' letter and gets straight in the thick of things. AU!

Declaimer: I'm really upset to claim that I'm not J. K. Rowling, so only Sylvia and other characters whom you won't recognize are mine.  
PS thoughts are in * *  
Chapter 1, where nothing happens at all, but where you can get acquainted with the main heroine and her family and it is something already.  
***

Life isn't about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself.

George Bernard Show

Thursday, 17 August

-But Granny, this potion is too difficult for me to brew! Furthermore, we haven't found reliable information about its making yet, - I yell resentfully. My cheeks are on fire and my eyes are blurred with rage.

-Hmm, Sylvia, we haven't looked though "The art of potion-making" yet, have we? We can find something there, - granny exclaims happily, ignoring my temper.

-Oh no… - I begin growling. – Haven't you forgotten about Transfiguration and Charms?

-Sylvia, you know pretty well that I'll be leaving in the evening and you may do what you want. Now, please, let's return to the potion, - Granny repeats persistently. – Moreover, I'm always interested in your success in Potions. What if you'll be making something new and I'll miss it?

-Certainly not, - I mutter under my breath. My grandmother and grandfather had been working as Potions makers for nearly 30 years in one of the greatest laboratories in the world. But after they have retired Granny started to educate me in area of Potions and my grandfather devoted himself to his favorite subject – collecting books. Besides the plenty of literature about Potions, History of Magic, Transfiguration, Charms, etc there were a lot of them of muggle's origin – classic, stories about nature and even sci-fi books, which were very popular among the teenagers that time. What I loved most of all, was to run through the books, lying in the high shelves, finding the needed one. The grandfather himself could be waiting for hours in a queue to buy a book or even strolling in the ruins of old houses in search of valuable editions. He loved only his family and friends more, than the books.

While I was thinking in the cozy chair Granny has found "The art of potion-making" inside of the small, but full with books shelf. She leafs through the pages with a satisfied look upon her face so I can understand easily that the instructions are found. I may only sigh heavily.

-Well… You see, I've said that you need to stir 3 times counterclockwise when your potion turns violet, - my Granny utters thoughtfully.

-Okay-okay, - I mutter, no way to escape this nevertheless.

We stir a jellied potion a half an hour later, checking everything almost every minute. I think that I need to point out that we were always making potions brilliant, but that's no surprise at all.

At this very moment somebody enters a house and goes along the corridor, knocking with his heels (Mum it probably is – I try to guess). While I am running towards her, she changes her clothes and goes into the kitchen to drink a cup of coffee or to the living room to fall onto the sofa tiredly.

-Mum! – I am yelling and running to hug her in the same time. Meanwhile our cat wakes up and jumps from his chair to reach my mum. If am not nimble enough, I may shove him out of my way. In this case the cat meows resentfully and looks at me reproachfully but starts cuddling up to us, waggling with his flexible as a wire tail. Granny appears inside the room, smiles and says:

-Good evening.

-Hello, mum, - my mum replies invariably.

I chatter, retelling my mum the events of the day meanwhile Granny is standing nearby and smiling. However, she hears the ominous hissing of the pan soon and runs to the kitchen with horror. When Granny is done cooking, she says goodbye to everyone and takes her leave. Then I go into my room to start doing lessons.

-The potions are over, finally! – I mutter under my breath, cleaning up everything. Soon I am poring over transfiguration, charms and other academic rubbish. To pay a debt to my mother, I must admit that she knows ancient runes perfectly and always helps me with them. Besides that she works as an auror in the Ministry and as you may know it is tiring. Hmm… I haven't barely said anything about my father, who works as an auror, too but for one of those organizations in Diagon Alley, not for the Ministry. I tried to remember that place many times but I was too small, so these letters IDA are locked behind seven seals for me.

Now I and my mother are chattering and eating delicious ragout with meatballs and a large melon for the dessert. Then she usually reads a book from grandfather's library, shaking her head and laughing sometimes.

I go straight to bed at ten o'clock. You think I'm sleeping? How wrong you are! I'm hiding with my wand and a book under the blanket (for the case mum comes inside my room) and read this book quietly, trying not to swish with the paper. Nearly an hour later you can hear some noise coming from the hall – my father's finally arrived. I fold away the irritating blanket and open the door, greeting my father. Mum frowns discontentedly (I'm not sleeping yet, remember?) and drops

-Hello, Reynold.

-Hello, - my father utters exhaustedly.

I and my father drink tea in the kitchen. My mum appears in the room in the middle of my laughter and tells me to go back to sleeping. I can hear mother's annoyed voice and father's muttering even from my room moments later.

-Reynold, if you wanna speak with your daughter, you must arrive earlier, it's time to sleep now.

My father replies something, but not clear enough for me to understand, so I return to my book. I close it nearly at three o'clock when my desire to sleep is unbearable. I put the book onto my table. Father's already sleeping and my mother's writing something at the table.


End file.
